


Currents From One to Another

by brisingrdraumar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (I guess fluff?), Angst, Currents spoilers, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pack Dynamics, Season 3 Spoilers, Stiles is the spark, alternate ending to 03x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brisingrdraumar/pseuds/brisingrdraumar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"[Stiles] saved Boyd from dying in a pool of water once, and he can damn well do it again."</p><p>Alternate ending to <i>Currents</i>. Basically this is me trying to cope using denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Currents From One to Another

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [The Woman](http://thewomanofscandal.tumblr.com) for the beta!  
> Any mistakes left are my own.
> 
> If you're wondering how I miraculously came up with an actual good title (one that even FITS) this time, it was on accident and with more help from The Woman. She's a lovely and lets me bounce terrible titles off her. You should thank her for not letting it be called "One Is the Loneliest Number Especially If you Don't Accept Help Then People Die Which Doesn't Happen in This So Pls Read"

Derek can’t see anything beyond the blood on his hands, can’t _smell_ anything beyond the blood on his hands, and the only thing he can hear is someone saying the same thing: “ _I’m sorry. I—I’m so sorry_ ,” in that same broken voice, over and over again and he wishes with everything that he is that they would just _stop_ already. Derek can’t take how pitiful that sound is, it’s making him sick. No one deserves to sound so messed up, so small and so vulnerable. Not while Boyd is lying here dead. He hates that voice, he fucking _hates it_. And if he finds out who won’t _shut the fuck up_ he’s going to _tear_ —

Derek is jolted out of his train of thought when something slams into his back, and there’s another voice screaming in his ear mercifully drowning the _I’m sorry_ ’s out.

“Derek, are you listening? Boyd isn’t dead! He’s _not dead yet_ ,” it’s the stinging slap to his cheek that pulls him away from himself, “Give me your hands!” Stiles slots himself behind Derek, gripping his hands and shoving them both forward.

Stiles tries to get them to Boyd, eventually grabbing the back of Cora’s shirt and forcibly flinging her to the side when she wouldn’t move out of the way. He will feel bad about that later, but there are more important things to do right now. Namely: Boyd bleeding out into the water on the floor. Stiles is shaking, trying to maneuver them both, and trying to gauge how much time they have. It’s hard to see how much blood someone has lost when it just gets diluted and washed away. He saved Boyd from dying in a pool of water once, and he can damn well do it again.

He gets their hands on the holes in the boy’s chest, with Derek’s pressed right into the welling blood. Stiles pushes his palms into the back of the alpha’s hands, “Take his pain, Derek. Take it away from him,” He leans harder into Derek, watching as his veins turn black. He keeps talking right in Derek’s ear, “Take it all. It’s not his, it’s Kali’s. You’ll give it back to her later. Not just the pain, Derek, take the whole thing. Take the wound itself,”

Derek startles and looks back at Stiles over his shoulder and whispers, “I can’t. It doesn’t work like that,” he thinks his cheeks are wet, but that’s ok because so is the rest of him, and no one will notice anyway.

Except maybe Stiles does, because his cheeks are wet too, and why does that feel so horrible? The hands on his tighten and Stiles’ voice hardens, determined. “Yes you can. You can, you just have to _do it_ , Derek,” and he looks back down at his hands, black-veined and red-stained, and he stops thinking and just _tries_. He’s been trying so hard lately, and trying never really got him anywhere, but it’s all he can do right now so he does. He closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and digs deeper.

Stiles’ hands feel like they’re on fire atop his and his head feels like it’s being split open. He can vaguely hear yelling behind him, but it’s as if his entire world has narrowed to ten points. A hole for each claw. He starts to tremble and the edges of his vision blur and darken, but he doesn’t stop. _Take it_ Stiles had said _, you just have to **do it**_. Just _do it._ So he _just does it_ , and it starts like ten tiny needle points inside his chest. Not even on his skin, but he can feel them in his lungs, his heart, his ribs, but they don’t matter, he keeps going. The tiny points of pain get bigger, grow outward, until he’s howling, gnashing his teeth, and violently shaking his head as he turns against his will for the first time since he was a child.

It’s not until Boyd starts gasping beneath them that Stiles is able to force his eyes open and look down. His brain feels like it’s been turned to mush and is in danger of flowing straight out his nose, but the pain in his skull is negligible in comparison to the relief of seeing open brown eyes looking back at him. Not clouded or murky with pain or death, but clear and bright. He takes his hands from Derek’s then, wincing as their skin pulls, and wraps one arm around Derek’s shoulders, pulling him backward and off the boy in front of them.

Boyd is still staring at them when the hands finally pull away. He doesn’t take his eyes from them when he touches his skin, feeling it smooth and warm like the last fifteen minutes never even happened. Like he dreamed them altogether. He watches Stiles back away, trying to give the two wolves space. He sees Derek cough and spit, blood running down his chin, and Boyd is up and kneeling as Derek wipes the wetness away. He tears at his alpha’s shirt, baring his chest and watches as ten punctures heal from the inside out. Derek doesn’t let him say anything, though. He just hauls Boyd in by the back of his neck, wrapping his beta up in his arms. He scents the boy’s neck, smelling Boyd and pack and _life_ , and for a moment that smell is the only thing that exists, until the boy is pulled away to receive the same treatment from Cora.

Boyd looks up at Derek from where he was crouched with Cora a few feet away, “How? How did you do that?”

Derek just shakes his head, face open and stunned, “I don’t _know_ ,” he looks back at Stiles, who was kneeling a bit farther behind him, “How did you know I could do that?”

Stiles jerks his head up from where he was staring at his knees, he’s breathing heavy and his hands are shaking, “I—I didn’t,” his voice hardly sounds like his own, “I just…believed. Like with the mountain ash at the rave, remember?” His whole body starts to tremble, and he brings up a hand to scrub at his eyes, “I believed that it would work, because it _had to_.”

He starts listing to the side and Derek brings up a hand to hold him still as Lydia carefully makes her way over to them, “Stiles,” she puts a hand on his shoulder, “Stiles let me see your phone, mine’s dead. And you don’t want it to get damaged, right?” She looks at Derek, making eye contact and trying to convey something, but he doesn’t quite understand what she wants him to get. “Stiles, we need to call Scott and see if Deaton is alright, remember?” Her voice is a little shrill, and he wants to tell her to shut up, but the look on her face stops him.

She’s looking at Stiles like she’s _scared_ , and it clicks. Derek moves to get up when Boyd appears right beside him, “Let’s get you somewhere dry,” and he hoists Stiles up by his shoulders, letting the smaller boy fall over one broad shoulder.

Stiles started mumbling as soon as he left the ground, “I’m ok, I’m _fine_. Just a little sleepy, that’s all.”

Derek followed behind them, “Boyd, maybe I should take him—,”

“No,” the word came out in a rush, before Derek could even finish his sentence, and squeezing the back of Stiles’ knee where his hand was poised for counterbalance, “I want to do it. Please?”

Nodding, Derek opens his mouth, “You guys’re so sweet,” and promptly shuts it again when Stiles mumbles, “You could hand me off like a relay baton, f’it makes you feel better.”

Boyd chuckles, and Derek just shakes his head, “You can put him on the bed. It’s the driest place right now,” he looks over the other two betas, “Cora, Isaac,” he nods to Jennifer, still being held by Isaac, “Get her home, alright? Make sure she’s ok, then come back.”

The betas nod, but Jennifer shrugs out of Isaac’s hold and walks over to Derek, “Are you ok? You were screaming, and I—,”

“I’m fine,” he looks toward the others on the bed, Boyd and Lydia had settled in, sitting on either side of Stiles, “We’re all fine,” he looks back at her, “You need to get out of here, though. You’ll feel better when you get home.”

“But the kids—,”

“Safer here.”

She looks at him like he’s crazy, eyes wide and mouth open in shock, “ _How_ can you _say_ that?”

He shrugs, “They’re pack,” he doesn’t try explaining it.

She lets out a breath, “ _Jesus_. They’re all…whatever you are?”

“No,” his lips tighten and purse, “but they’re still pack, nonetheless.”

She shakes her head, bewildered, looks at him once more and walks over to Isaac, who’s waiting for her by the door while Cora hovers over Boyd a little longer. The three walk out together, betas casting looks toward the others as they exit and Derek makes his way back to the bed. He settles in beside Boyd, looking over at the human laid out between them and the girl on the other side of the bed.

Lydia dials Scott with the phone she fished from Stiles’ pocket while he was suspended over Boyd’s shoulder. Sitting next to Stiles on the bed, she puts the phone on speaker, and it’s on the second ring when Scott picks up, “Stiles, is Derek ok? Did you guys get there in time?”

Stiles rolls toward Lydia, speaking mostly into the bedding, “Derek s’fine. Alphas got Boyd, but not, Derek saved’im. S’ok. Doc?”

There’s a beat and then Scott starts yelling through the phone, “Am I on speakerphone? Someone tell me what the hell happened to Stiles!”

Lydia brings the phone closer to her mouth, “We don’t know. He…did something. We don’t know what he did. We need to talk to Deaton, is he ok? Did _you_ get there in time?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. The darach put mountain ash around him, but Sheriff came and—,”

“My dad?” Stiles struggles to sit up, “Why’s he there? S’he ok? What happened?!” His arms shake too hard for him to support himself, and Derek lays a hand on his shoulder to push him back down.

“He’s fine, Stiles! Like…great, actually. He _shot the rope_ , I didn’t even knew people could _do_ that in real life!” Stiles settles a bit at that, and the phone rustles like Scott is switching ears, “Here let me give you to Deaton, ok?”

Deaton’s voice is weary and small sounding coming out of the tiny speaker on the phone, “Stiles? Stiles, I’m fine. Your father is fine. And a crack shot, might I add.”

“Something happened with Stiles and Derek. He said something about ‘taking pain’ but it wasn’t just that. They _healed_ Boyd. We don’t really know exactly what, but Stiles is…well it looks like he just ran a marathon, or something. This isn’t a normal adrenalin crash, this is more,” Lydia’s voice was calm, but there is a sense of urgency to her words, frustrated with how long it took to get to this point in the phone call.

There was silence on the other end before Deaton says quietly, “I think you better tell me everything.”

Lydia relays the last half-hour, recalling every word verbatim, making sure Deaton has all of the facts and variables. With all of the plans that fall apart, and all of the scenarios that have gotten turned upside down, she’s taking no chances. Deaton listens quietly as she speaks, and when she’s finished, finally getting to Stiles’ muddled explanation of what he and Derek did, his voice is clear, “You’ve done something miraculous today, Stiles. You too, Derek. Healing like that, I’ve never actually heard of it working in the way that you’ve said it did. It would take tremendous force of will, tremendous belief. It only worked because you believed it would, both of you. It sounds like Derek was the conduit and the refinement. You focused your energy and put it to work the way you needed it to. Stiles was the will…the power fueling the conduit. The Spark, if you will. Manipulating energies like this is all about intent and belief. Derek focused the intent and Stiles drove the belief where it needed to be.”

Derek speaks while the others sit on that for a moment, “Why is he like this, though? Why am I not as drained?”

“Derek, it takes a lot to go against nature like the two of you have.  And there’s always a balance; you got the wounds, he got the lethargy. I told you he was the fuel, and he’s probably tapped out for the moment. I would take a look at him myself, but—,”

“We understand,” Lydia interrupts before the others could say anything else, “Thank you.”

“Energy is a fluid thing, it can pass from person to person. Being to being. It’s not always so forceful, as with feat you performed today, but natural. It happens every day. It sounds like he just needs rest, but contact with others helps. If anything else happens, I want you to tell me. His father saved my life today, and I’m not about to forget that. My ride is here, however, so we will have to continue this later.”

Small noises come through the speaker as the phone changes hands again, but they’re overpowered by the sirens as the ambulance approaches, “What the heck happened, guys?! I mean, I heard, but I don’t really get—,”

“Just get over here, Scott. It’s cuddle time,” Lydia ends the call before Scott could answer and tosses the phone on the nightstand, “You guys heard him, call your pack or whatever,” Boyd and Derek sort of just look at her, not moving. “Are you serious right now? Deaton said contact helps. Stiles is out of literal energy, and _werewolves_ have _more_ energy. Why do I have to explain this?”

“How would you even know that?” Boyd interrupts her, questioning. He doesn’t get how she came to this conclusion, but that doesn’t stop him from curling a hand around Stiles’ forearm.

“Super-healing,” “Super-strength,” Lydia and Derek speak at the same time. Lydia smiles at him, glad someone was finally on the same page as her, “Super-everything, really. Everything your body does from healing to strength to your senses requires energy. Meaning you have _more_ than the average bear.”

“I dunno f’s more’n a _bear_ ,” Stiles slurs from where his face is buried in the comforter, and Derek doesn’t miss a beat as he’s dialing Isaac’s number on his phone.

“It is.”

Boyd snorts and Lydia just rolls her eyes, but all three  find patches of skin on Stiles to lay their hands. Derek has a quick conversation with Isaac, learning that they’re already heading back, and he tells them to pick up Peter on their way. He turns back toward the boy in his bed and settles in closer so he can lean against the headboard. He rests his palm against the back of Stiles’ neck, looking at the top of his hand and the shiny skin there. Like a healed burn scar. He reaches for one of Stiles’ hands and looks at his palm, where the same shiny skin is. They didn’t come out of this unscathed, but the way Deaton made it sound, they were lucky. ‘Going against nature’ he said. _I would go against a lot more_ , Derek thinks as he looks at the boy beside him. The beta who ran away, but who also came back, not _to_ him, but _for_ him. He’s already buried one beta and did his best to drive another away. He’s not running from them anymore, he can’t. It’s clear that distancing himself isn’t working to keep anyone safe. Derek may be headstrong, and he may be blunt in his words and actions, but he isn’t _stupid_. He can tell that his plans usually suck, so he tightens his hold on Stiles with one hand and reaches over to grab Boyd’s shoulder with his other and resigns himself to ask for help.

It’s not perfect, and it’s all still circling the drain, but it’s a step in the right direction. This is the first time everything ended up actually working out for everyone who matters; this makeshift shot to hell day where every odd was stacked against them turned out alright. And it wasn’t his doing that it suddenly tilted in their favor, so he silently decides right then to try his best to instill a new inclusion to his actions. Let people know what’s going on, ask their opinions. Have an ‘open door’. It’s going to be hard, after so many years of shutting any- and everyone out and down. But he’s going to try.

“Is anyone going to explain to me who that was on the phone?” Boyd looks from Derek to Lydia, all three of them sitting on the bed connected by their contact with Stiles.

Before either of them could answer him, Peter, Isaac, and Cora walk through the door, “So what happened? The puppies said you would explain everything,” Derek looks at Peter and sighs. _Inclusion. This is going to take a while_. And, for the first time, he holds nothing back.

 

 The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you find errors, please don't hesitate to let me know.
> 
> I love hearing your thoughts, and I try to respond to every comment. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Hit me up on [my Tumblr](http://aconitebite.tumblr.com) if you so desire :)


End file.
